When In Doubt
by Elfwine
Summary: They usually say that when in doubt, tell the truth. But how do you tell it to your friend? Aragorn struggles to manage.


**When In Doubt**

Dear Father, _I am well and Rivendell has brought me some comfort, though it is not home_. I decide to strike the last bit out, because I cannot give him any reason to hope I might return or that I miss home enough to. _Before I give you the regards of others I must explain my reasons, and they go deeper than anything_. He must know how important this is to me. _They are not rooted foolishly, or I have been acting a child_. I know I must be entirely sure of myself and not just for him, or we both will becomes victims of injury.

_Before everything had been explained I found it all rather confusing, but now the tale has been told and the final picture is evident._ Yes that's better. _I will be part of a group, accepted or chosen by Lord Elrond himself_. Claiming that this was Elrond's decision entirely would not be fair, for he gave me a choice. It cannot be mistaken as force. _As you know it is not safe to provide this letter with names, so I will be as giving as possible. However the enemy does know of two who travel with us, and because of this I can tell you that Mithrandir has been appointed our guide_. This statement is concerning to me. Father has never wished the wizard ill, but he is not so foolish as to disregard the connections between Bilbo and _It_ soon enough. Hopefully his trust for Mithrandir holds. I leave it and move onto the next subject. The _Nogoth_.

This might throw him off course, but I think it best to be over and done with. _Lord Elrond has chosen representatives for each race, including the Dwarves_. In the past father has had dealings with them, discovering their uses _and_ tempers. But I cannot think he would hate them, at least not all of them. I must assure father this will not be a distraction. _Theirs is abundantly polite_, bluntly careful actually, but I see I will have to stretch the truth ever so slightly. As the ink sinks into the paper I search inside myself for more to say, but now I realize there is so little that I know of the company. I find this disconcerting.

"Legolas?" I already recognize him for his voice, strong but calming. Estel is standing in the doorway, a strange look stressing his face. Standing I lay the quill to rest on the hardwood of the table, the grain light in color. Birdsong and warm sunlight is reaching through the open windows, bringing brilliance to his somber eyes and raven hair. A tiered air lingers around his person, amidst confusion and hesitance. Those who know little of Estel would guess that he is young, but under all the boyish layers are years of experience and wisdom. I know he has seen more than he should have to, some things not as obvious others. Many have wished to lighten the burdens expectedly laid upon his shoulders, even those who know that there is no shaking them.

"I see you have rested." The subject is possibly more tender than he lets it show; nonetheless Estel dips his head, avoiding any contact. No doubt Lord Elrond has carefully watched over him with subconscious fear. _A healer's habit_, I think. _And also a loving father's_. Estel looks past me, his brow faintly creased with uncertainty. A light wind gently rustles parchment; rattles fallen leaves outdoors and whistles through hallow holes in the beautiful construction of Rivendell. None of this seems to awaken the Ranger from his unspoken reckoning. Slowly, but not lazily he crosses the short distance between us and stands before me, his eyes mirroring a battle of wills, gray and green.

"Why did you pledge yourself to the quest?" Estel asks, almost tactlessly, breaking the silent reserve of the room. "You did not do this because of me, nor did Boromir." His cause for concern is quite obvious and I finally grasp the understanding.

"It will take more than just three warriors to protect the Hobbits Estel. The journey is long, and the Gondorian will not always be there." _If he leaves us that is_. But I do not impart my doubts; it will only make the conversation a little harder. Gimli is a subject I do not cherish greatly, nor care to discuss further. I feel that it is only for the best that I leave the _Nogoth_ unspoken for.

Looking straight at me he asks wistfully, "What about your home and family? Are you certain that you can quit all that? You and I both know the dangers."

"But the risk we take every day is not much different than what we are taking now." I reason. "You trumping around the country side being chased by shades and me getting bit by the shadow itself." He gives me an irritated look and I suppress lament. "The only difference is in their numbers and the distance between the starting point and the objective." I cannot guess what has him questioning me thus, and it worries me. Hopefully this will not become an argument.

Estel shakes his head, but there is a gentle patience in the following reply. "This is more than just war; you are right about the conditions, but what about the aftereffect? Are you certain enough, if you should fall?"

I sink further down in my chair and study the floor, following the lines drawn by years of growth. They remind me of folding water and the feel of wood laid down in my father's halls. It helps settle the storm, and I stop once I reach the Ranger's boots. Quietly I begin to explain. "I'm completely mindful of the consequences, as terrible as they may seem. You know I cannot withdraw from my _promise_, so why should anyone fight me for it?"

He settles down in a chair across from me, his face loss of all expression. I try to read his eyes, but one has gone dark while the other glistens in the afternoon light. A shadow covers his body. We both listen to the sound of nature, and neither of us says anything for a while.

"I understand you do this for your home, everyone has similar motivations." He says kindly, looking at me from across the table, almost uncomfortably. "It is wrong to question a friend's honor-" The unspoken doubt has already injured me somewhat and it takes a few seconds to gain control of my thoughts. I can see his jaw tighten, as if he battles another collision of strong wills. "And I do not doubt you or anyone of the fellowships worth. I only needed to see for myself that-" _So that was the problem_? It seems so strange to me that he must go searching for such things.

"That is well." It's not what I had intended to say, but it is all I can manage without failing myself for it. Smiling sadly I gently push the letter over to the edge of the table, out of reach from _Anor_. There are many scratched lines and wrinkled areas. I have written many before, but this letter lacks the usual elegance and confidence. Placing a hand on top of the page I smile at all the mistakes, though the gesture feels almost empty. "As plainly as possible I have spent much time organizing my thoughts, not quite so carefully." Estel's weighted gaze is upon me and I look up at him, his eyes brewing with unease and something else I cannot name.

"There is more that you would ask me?" I say, but he shakes his head in silence, staring at his hands like they're strange to him. "Estel?" He looks at me, calm but also weary. "What is wrong, you hardly act as such?"

Estel's voice is ironic. "My rest was not dreamless. It has been some time since I let such a thing trouble me." He laughs, but it's an edgy sound that makes me feel cold almost. "But I cannot interpret it's meaning, because I do not understand half of what I saw. Some of it has already been lost from my memory, like a dream should. Perhaps it does not matter so much." Sadly there is little I can do for my friend and this frustrates me. Learning the drawbacks of mortality often do, while struggling to understand their ways. There is much I do not see and I'm yet to discover those missing qualities.

"Have you spoken to your father, about the dream?" I ask, thinking it strange that Estel would seek council from me. "He has experience with these kind of reveries if I'm not mistaken." And there is little that I know of such riddles.

Estel then admits, sounding at loss, as if caught between two acts, and neither that he can risk making. "I will not ask him." His voice becomes firm, but not rudely so, putting an end to this part of the conversation. I hope his thoughts are not so dark now. Such things leaning on his conscience will only make the present situation worse. But I do not peruse the subject further.

Turning back to a fresh piece of parchment I dip the quill until the edge is fully covered. Soon my hand is forming the first line with more gentle care, scratching but not pressing the paper too hard. I steal a glance of the man's bearing, his gaze following the words of my message as they develop. It worries me to see signs of the earlier unease returned, even after our awkward conversation. I can only hope that the doubt will diminish in time.

(|)

Note; if you have not noticed by now this one-shot has more to do with Aragorn (Estel) than Legolas. Please understand that I do not plan these stories, they just write themselves really. I do not own Lord of the Rings; the wonderful series rightfully belongs to J. R. R. Tolkien himself and his inheritors.


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